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He eyes me with curiosity and caution. I can’t stand the presence of this guy. I give him credit though because he knows not to get comfortable even when he knows we could end him.
He doesn’t have that blasé ‘you can’t touch me’ attitude exhibited by a lot of these would-be types. He’s a sick fuck but he knows to watch himself around people like us.
“It is Nickoli Giordano.” He full-names me. Good. It’s a sign of respect. Only people I know call me Nick.
“Talk, you know what we want to hear. You know what I want to know.”
He looks down at the dusty ground, then back to me. “For free? I’m supposed to talk for free?” he challenges.
I look to Vincent who sighs and gives me a nod. The okay. That’s all I need and I glance at Salvatore and Gabe. That’s all we need.
We’re so close in mind that sometimes we don’t need to speak. It was worse when Frankie was alive. Probably a little creepy too, that we could all communicate with one look.
Gabe and Salvatore move almost as one, synced with each other.
Both rush to Billy before he can take his next breath. Salvatore swipes his legs from under him so fast it’s like it never happened and Billy’s on the ground before he can blink, with my brothers standing over him, guns ready to fire.
Billy screams and shields his face, looking from one to the other as panic takes him and it looks like this idiot’s just realized who he’s messing with.
I move forward and Salvatore and Gabe part to make room for me.
Billy backs away but I place my foot on him, right there in his fucking crutch to crush his dick with the sole of my boot if he doesn’t give the right answer.
I do that and I pull my twin Berettas on him, pointing them both at his eyes. One for each.
“Billy, let me tell you something you don’t realize,” I begin. “When you aren’t offered something, you don’t ask. Also, I didn’t think I’d have to tell you that if people like us come for you, the thing you get in return for info is your life. We will shit all over tradition if needs be to fuck you up. So talk right the fuck now.”
Yup… that was me. The real me and it scares the shit out of him because I’m supposed to be the trusty accountant with the sex club.
Me, Salvatore and Gabriel own the club with our cousins Christian and Georgiou. So people tend to make the mistake of underestimating us.
I really pity people in times like this, who think we’ll show some form of leniency.
Billy starts shaking more as I pull the triggers back.
He not sure if I’ll kill him. I can see him trying to figure me out. What’s throwing him is Vincent’s presence. A capo who’s supposed to make sure rules get followed. He’s scared of Vincent though. Everybody is.
“I don’t know much. I heard things … whispers and then there was a guy a three weeks ago,” Billy stutters.
“Keep talking.”
“He came into my bar and tried to pick up one of my waitresses. He got drunk and started boasting. I heard him mention Tommy, and Franco Perez. They were going to be meeting with one of the Fontaines.”
The blood in my body practically drains from me at the mention of those names. They aren’t names to be tossed around lightly.
Not at fucking all.
Franco Perez, is the Chicago’s link to the Cuban Cartel. Hearing that name is enough to put the fucking fear of God in me. The name that stands out the most though is Fontaine.
Fontaine as in enemy to the Giordanos and practically every crime family in this hemisphere.
Fuck… Tommy, what the fuck were you doing associating with those kinds of people.
I glance at Vincent as he swoops closer. The names are enough to involve him now, more than he’s previously been. It’s the effect of dropping a fucking bomb.
“Why?” Vincent demands. His tone is far worse than mine.
His question is not one to be side-stepped and Billy knows he shouldn’t try anything.
